


House On Fire

by wintershelter



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV)
Genre: Coldwave Week 2017 - Day 5, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-11
Updated: 2017-08-11
Packaged: 2018-12-14 04:57:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11775966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wintershelter/pseuds/wintershelter
Summary: During a mission gone wrong, Len gets trapped inside a burning building. Mick isn't going to let Len stay there long.





	House On Fire

Coming here was a bad idea. Even with the full team working together, they had been quickly outflanked. In the chaos, Len’s cold gun had been knocked from his hands, the man he’d fighting sent it skittering across the room.

Len punched the man across the face, but he recovered quickly and sent a sharp kick to Len’s stomach. He automatically buckled over and the man took that pause to pick Leonard up from beneath his armpits and throw him with force at a table with science equipment.

The action jarred his left arm in his socket as he hit the tabletop. The momentum of the throw sent his whole body toppling across equipment that was now broken glass and metal fragments, from his impact. The momentum of the throw drove his body to the table’s edge and Len tumbled to the floor.

The man made his way around the table towards Leonard. Tensing his body in anticipation, he waited until the man was standing in front of him. With all the strength he could muster, he kicked out his right leg, off balancing the man and he fell down sideways. Leonard wasted no time and sprung forward.

Len wound his arm backwards and hit the man’s cheek. The strength of the blow, bouncing the man’s head against the linoleum. Leonard saw his body go limp. He was out cold. Leonard stayed on his knees for a moment, waiting to catch his breath.

Every inch of Len’s body was screaming in pain. He grabbed the edge of the table, driving glass shards into his palm, as he levered himself to his feet. He leaned against the table until he was sure he could he could walk. Leonard looked across the room and saw his cold gun.

He slowly made his way over to it. He gingerly lowered his body to a crouch. He turned the weapon over in his hands, powering it up to make sure it wasn’t damaged. He found his familiar grip on the gun and stood up slowly. He walked toward the door to exit the room, only a slight limp to his step.

As he opened the door, a blast of heat, stung his eyes, making them water. He was ill prepared for the sight that met him. There was fire clinging to almost every surface in the room. The once expansive room seemed to get smaller with every flame that spread.

Len knew the blueprint of the place and knew there was no back door for him to escape through. This room was his only way out of here.

_Here goes nothing._

Lifting his gun up to shoulder height, he pulled the trigger. The icy blast of cold, deterring some of the flames in front of him. It would have to do. He began to move forward, creating a path through the flames. The closer he got to the exit, the more smothering and thick the air became. Leonard found it harder to breath in the oppressive environment.

The flames were getting closer together with every step towards the door. The heat causing his hands to sweat, his grip slipping on the metal of the gun. The fire seemed to lick its way closer to Len. All though he knew it wasn’t possible, he felt as if his body was burning itself alive.

As Len passed the remnants of a cabinet, the fire engulfing it, popped with a loud snap. He felt flames singe his clothes, but thankfully nothing caught alight.

“Fuck,” he said, getting a little panicked. The smoke was stinging his eyes, making it harder to see. Len had tears continuously leaking from his eyes as they tried to clear the soot from his vision. He could just make out the door feet in front of him, but it looked like a ring of fire. Len froze the flames surrounding the door frame as best as he could and ran through the doorway.

The room he just entered had just as much fire. _Was this whole building on fucking fire?_

There was no way he was going to make it out, cold gun or not.

He brought his elbow up to his mouth trying to expel some of the soot he had been inhaling but coughing. The motion jarred his previous injuries, he was still sporting. Looking around, he noticed he couldn’t see where the exit was. The flames were everywhere. In his confusion, he couldn’t recall where the door was in this room. Resuming his upward stance, he shut his eyes tightly for a moment to center himself. As he reopened them, he fired his gun and began to move the only way he could think to: forward. He began hurrying along a little faster this time, hoping he was heading in the direction of the door.

“Len!” Someone bellowed in front of him. Len could just hear it over the cacophony of flames.

He took his finger off the trigger of his cold gun, lowering it down and saw a large figure. There was only one man Len knew who knew his name and was built like a brick house. Len’s shoulders relaxed slightly, if there was one man equipped to handle this situation, it was Mick.

“Mick,” Len shouted hoarsely over the roaring of the flames, feeling both relieved and terrified to see him in the middle of an blazing inferno.

“Come on.” Mick shouted back, grabbing onto Len’s arm to guide him the rest of the way out.

A large beam fell from the ceiling right in front of them. Mick covered Len’s head to shield him from the debris.

“Come on,” Mick said, letting go of Len and leading the way. Len had no problem following him, though it was hard to keep his eyes open for more than a few moments before having to blink away the soot. Suddenly, Len inhaled and something caught in his throat. The automatic reflex to cough had him curling inward slightly as he continued to move forward.

Mick somehow heard the force of his cough and whipped back. He grabbed Len’s shirt in a tight fist and pulled him forward that last few steps and out into the cool dark air.

Len leaned on his hunches, eyes still watering fiercely. Alternating between coughing out the ash and gulping in the fresh air. Mick stayed close, his hand hovering just over Len’s shoulder blades, ready to offer support if needed.

Len took in a choked sounding breath and grabbed the front of Mick’s shirt. He kept his hold on Mick partially to ground himself and partially to keep Mick from doing something stupid, like run back inside. Mick laid his hand on Len’s back. Mick hadn’t been in the building all that long, his lungs a little sore, but nothing like what Len was experiencing. After a few minutes, Len was able to stand up.

Len released his grip from the fabric of Mick’s shirt and wiped his eyes with the back of his hand. He met Mick’s eyes.

“Wher-" Len tried, but again broke off into a cough fit.

“Jesus, Lenny.” Mick said, placing a hand on the top of Len’s back. “Just focus on breathing, buddy. The rest of the team is fine. They’re back on the Waverider, where we need to go, since, you are desperate need of some oxygen, c’mon.”

Mick threaded his arm under Len’s shoulders and easily helped lift him upright. They slowly made their way back to the Waverider. Mick had told the crew they were coming onboard, via the com set, and they made their way onto the bridge.

Concerned words and glances were made by the crew and while Len was grateful he waved them off. Mick guided him to med bay. He was sat in a chair because it was more comfortable than the cots. Seriously, how did those things constitute as a reasonable hospital bed in the future? Mick gave him a mask which he gratefully accepted.

Gideon prattled off some medical jargon, but Len felt the cool rush of oxygen fill his mask and yes, _finally_. He sucked in the sweet air, letting his eyes fall close of their own volition.

“You good, Snart?” Mick said, and opened his eyes to look at his partner’s face.

His tone was gruff, but the look in his eyes was anything but. Len couldn’t help the smile that tugged at the corners of his lips. He reached out a hand and grabbed Mick’s, squeezing it for a moment.

“Awww, you are too sweet.” Sara said, and Len glanced over.

The entire crew had followed them into med bay apparently. Well, it wasn’t like they were exactly hiding their relationship, but Len still liked to play his cards close to his chest. He let go of Mick’s hand.

“No need to stop on my account, I just came to make sure you didn’t die of smoke inhalation. Seems like you’re in good _hands_ though.” Sara said, her smile was absolutely shit-eating at this point.

Len appreciated the horrible pun and lifted off his mask to respond.

“Hilarious, Lance. I know where you sleep.” His voice was still raspy.

“Uh, hello. Out of the two of us, who here is the trained assassin?” Sara asked, eyebrows raised.

Before Len could continue bantering with Sara, Mick said, “Put that mask back on, your lungs still sound like shit.”

Len gave Mick a hard look at interrupting them, but complied, because yeah, they sounded like shit and they felt like it to boot.

Sara laughed and turned on her heel to leave, gesturing for the others to follow. Len felt a ping of gratitude. He really liked Sara and her ability to read a room. He was glad to have to others leave, especially now he was rendered speechless for the most part. Mick was the only person who stayed behind.

“You sure you're okay?” Mick asked.

Len nodded, knowing a verbal response would be muffled by the oxygen mask.

“You scared the crap outta me. When I saw all the others outside but didn't see you...” Mick trailed off with a shudder.

Len reached for Mick's hand again, rubbing his thumb over his skin.

Mick looked at Len. “I just got you back. You can't- You can't die on me again.”

Len couldn't stand the emotion in Mick's eyes and words, so in favor of responding he sat himself up and lifted off his mask. Before Mick could protest, Len was covering his mouth with his own.

Mick kissed him back bringing his hand up to cradle Len's neck.

When the kiss ended, Len gave Mick a warm smile. “I won't die. Not if I can help it.”

“Good." Mick said, the corner of his mouth lifting up. "Now for the last fucking time, put that damn mask back on.”

Len chuckled but did as he was told.

Len was cleared by Gideon a little over an hour later, but Mick stayed by Len's side the entire time.

 


End file.
